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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250828">reality isn't real</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeixeixei/pseuds/xeixeixei'>xeixeixei</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OOC Characters (?), Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeixeixei/pseuds/xeixeixei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi wished Tsukishima would mind his own business.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. [the bathroom incident]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this as a vent listening to an hour of heat waves by glass animals on repeat. idk why that song unlocked all my suppressed memories of my bad days but it did, so now I'm in an angsty mood</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tears didn't stop. They never did. Not once did they ever think about how Yamaguchi felt. They kept pushing out, even when his head was about to split open, even when his eyes were bleeding.</p><p>Dear lord, his fucking lungs burned from all the air being shoved in and out of his throat. And his heart - his heart wouldn't stop racing, not even for a second. The pain of having it beat so hard that it's cracked his ribs was Herculean.</p><p>He'd rather have his damn organs ripped out one-by-one before having another panic attack. Especially in the bathroom, with his best friend right outside the stall. </p><p>It didn't start out like this, all Yamaguchi wanted was a peaceful place to catch his breath and forget all the jealous thoughts swirling in his head. The sight of seeing Tsukki smiling over a girl choked him, it made him want to stab a knife through his heart and watch his blood trickle out of his gaping wound. Though, if Yamaguchi was being 100% honest with himself, he'd probably want to do that even without the jealousy.</p><p>The bathroom was his only safe place - more specifically the one near the back of the school, neighboring the abandoned science classroom. He knew that rarely anyone came into the isolated bathroom, which left it the most suitable place to hide from all of his problems. That is - until Tsukki realized he was missing. </p><p>Yamaguchi had the nonsensical thought that Tsukki wouldn't notice him gone for the better part of an hour, but his best friend did, and was now standing outside the beige door of the stall. Yamaguchi's breath burned his throat with ever rise of his chest, and it was horribly embarrassing knowing that every sound he made would be heard by the person he loved the most. </p><p>"Yamaguchi, open the door." Tsukishima's flat voice drifted into his ears, and the last bit of panic he had been holding back exploded in one terrifying blast of paranoia and fear. </p><p>The paranoid thoughts Yamaguchi regularly dealt with was already bad enough, but the overheating of his brain only made them worse. He didn't want to let Tsukki in, what if he could see the fantasies Yamaguchi had every night before bed? What if he could see how much he hated every girl that talked to him? All the "what if's"  drowned out any rationality he might've had. </p><p>"Yamaguchi, please, open the door." His friend asked again, the slightest trace of worry laced his words, only the closest of people could identify. </p><p>He shook his head, tightly closing his stinging eyes, knowing full well that Tsukishima couldn't see a single action. "No." He whispered so softly that not even he could hear himself, yet at the same time, the words vibrated through his mind. </p><p>Tsukishima's white shoes paced right outside the stall, and Yamaguchi wished they'd walk promptly away and out of his sight, but they stayed stubbornly in view. "Yamaguchi, please." The shoes stopped their pacing, parking themselves right in front of the stall. "Please, you're making everyone worried." </p><p>The hyperventilation only got worse, with each release of air becoming more violent by the millisecond. Yamaguchi hated it when his friends worried over him, the guilt it caused him weighed so heavily. It amplified all the panic, paranoia, and pain. All Yamaguchi wanted was to be alone, but his friends had to pretend to care about-</p><p>"Yamaguchi! Open the damn door! Please!" The yell crashed through all the delicately built walls, the pleading of his friend ruminated in his head, over and over again. </p><p>He continued to shake his head, even if no one was there to see it, repeating the whisper of "no" until it no longer was a word. Yamaguchi wished Tsukishima would act like he always did, with apathy and disinterest, why did he have to care at this moment. </p><p>"Please, open the door." Tsukishima continued to push and Yamaguchi continued to fight it with every fiber of his being. He distanced himself from the pleads of his best friend. </p><p>The words were no longer at him. His shaking hands were unfamiliar, the legs pressed tightly to his chest were no longer his, and the person less than a foot away was a stranger. Yamaguchi wasn't a name he recognized. Even the tears hot on his skin were foreign. </p><p>The white shoes resumed their panicked pacing, "Yamaguchi, don't make me crawl under there." They stopped briefly, only to begin once more. "Yamaguchi, I'll ask this one last time, open the door." </p><p>
  <em>Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi. </em>
</p><p>He knew the name was his, it was supposed to be his, but it wasn't. Nothing of this situation was his. Not anymore. Whoever was talking outside the stall door was an outsider. Every breath was a sensation made for someone else. </p><p>The horrendous music of pacing, sobs, and heavy breathing worked together to make an agonizing ten seconds, as Tsukishima quickly lost all patience. "I'm crawling under there whether you like it or not." </p><p>And to Yamaguchi's absolute horror, his best friend did. First came one long limb, then another, then the entirety of Tsukishima. For a moment too long, he stared at the disheveled appearance of his normally put-together best friend. As soon as Yamaguchi realized he was laid bare for Tsukishima to see, all of his insecurities and anguish clear to the naked eye, he violently started sobbing. Harsher than it had been in the past whatever-so minutes. His hands masked the majority of his face, but most importantly his eyes rimmed with red. </p><p>"Why are you-" Tsukishima's voice barely audible over the ringing in Yamaguchi's ears and the violent storm in his head. "No, is everything-" He hoped his friend would just leave already, the guilt of his sorry state making his best friend - that had such a perfect record - skip class was painful. "Yamaguchi, what's wrong." </p><p>Tsukishima kneeled down to Yamaguchi's level, and he really wished his friend hadn't. He was too close, and Yamaguchi was too vulnerable. He was used to the uncaring side of his friend, not the one who showed worry. All the sorrows and wrongs he wanted to let out stayed stuck inside his throat. </p><p>A hesitant hand lightly tugged at his wrist, "Please look at me." Tsukishima wrapped another gentle hand around the other wrist. Yamaguchi's skin burned with the soft contact, and he hated himself for wanting more. He slid away from his friend's overwhelming presence, pressing himself against the back of the toilet, paranoid that his thoughts were loud enough for him to hear. "Yamaguchi, please, look at me." </p><p>The light hold Tsukishima had on his wrists shackled him, if Yamaguchi couldn't move before, he certainly couldn't move now. The cuffs were nice though, barely more comforting than his own worst fantasies. Even so, unless Tsukishima decided to use his strength and rip his hands away from his face, Yamaguchi would stubbornly keep them there. Not that his limbs would let him do any differently. </p><p>"Yamaguchi, what's wrong." The delicateness shocked him, and it also frightened him, so much so that he could feel his blood freeze in it's place.</p><p>The fighting of what he wanted and didn't want roared on; he wanted his friend to love him back, to hold him and gently tough his face with love and care, but he also wanted to never have to get too close again, for his friend to continue to look at him with apathy and disinterest. If Tsukishima kept caring about why he was so panicked and desperately sobbing in the bathroom, the harder it was for Yamaguchi to pretend it never happened. </p><p>His panic attacks were usually private, in the safety of his own home, when his parents were too busy with their own business to deal with his own. This was different. And Yamaguchi didn't know how to handle different. </p><p>"I can't," Tsukishima sucked in a breath, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." The hands wrapped around his wrists tightened, and so did the shackles. </p><p>With hiccups and sobs, Yamaguchi whispered softly, hoping his friend had good enough hearing so he wouldn't have to repeat himself. Because now, Tsukishima was close enough to tell that he had said something. Now, if he said something, he couldn't take it back and erase all traces of the words. </p><p>"Nothing. I'm fine." </p><p>The hands were no longer gentle, they were desperate and worried to the point of fear, "That's bullshit. Tell me what's wrong." </p><p>"Nothing. I'm fine." He repeated, maybe if he said it enough times it would be true. </p><p>"What the fuck, you're cry-"</p><p>Yamaguchi shook his head violently, his head throbbing with every movement. The same three words reverberated in his head, and every single time he repeated it, the words felt increasingly false. "It's nothing. Please."</p><p>"Yamaguchi, you're fucking crying." Tsukishima finally decided to use his strength, ripping off the only physical barrier Yamaguchi had. "Look at me. Why are you crying. Please, tell me what's wrong. It's not nothing." </p><p>He didn't know what to say to make his friend back down, another wave of intense panic and paranoia crashed down on him. His wrists held down tightly by his friend's larger hands hurt, and it scared him, he didn't know how to handle a Tsukishima who was on the brink of desperation. He barely knew how to handle himself. All Yamaguchi could think of doing was to become a broken record, constantly playing the same phrase over and over again. </p><p>Sobs racked his raw throat, he no longer knew the reason why, maybe it was everything. He lowered his head, defeated, unsure of what to do. He never knew what to do, but especially not now. He could all but imagine the noose hanging around his neck, hanging from the clouds of the sky. It was toxic, but it was the only coping mechanism that he knew would work - that would calm him down. </p><p>But it didn't. </p><p>Tsukishima, he was the reason why all of this happened. If only Yamaguchi didn't fall in love with his best friend, if only his best friend hadn't tried to find him, and if only his best friend didn't care about the fact he was crying alone in the bathroom. </p><p>The suffocating shackles on his wrists were slowly released, which scared him, maybe Tsukishima was tired of dealing with his breakdown. Though maybe it was a good thing, he could pretend that this smear on his pride never existed; but maybe his friend would remember, and push him away. Not that Yamaguchi could blame him, it was still a wonder that his friends still let him hang around them.</p><p>A heavy weight landed on his lap, it was a head, Tsukishima's head. He wasn't leaving him, his best friend was still there. </p><p>"You, you should get back to class." Yamaguchi whispered, his tears obscuring his vision, unsure what he wanted anymore. The guilt was piling up, and his carefully crafted mask had already fallen. Tsukishima had already seen him at almost-rockbottom, so maybe... </p><p>The head on his lap let out a sigh, it was the usual annoyance that Tsukishima showed when he was acting normally, which was comforting. "It's fine, they don't care enough to look for us." </p><p>"But-"</p><p>"Shut up, Yamaguchi." His friend shifted slightly, hesitance showed through the cracks in his movements, "I mean, um, it's fine. Trust me, it's fine." </p><p>Was this comforting? Was his crush's head on his lap, telling him that it was fine that he was skipping, was that comforting? Yamaguchi didn't know, but it did make the crying worse.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Tsukki, I'm so sorry." A sob interrupted his steady stream of apologies. "Tsukki, I'm so sorry." </p><p>"Why are you apologizing." Tsukishima lifted his head, not that Yamaguchi could see, with his head buried deep into his hands. </p><p>He didn't have an answer, he knew why he felt guilty, but he couldn't explain that to the person in front of him. "I don't know, I'm sorry." He kept crying even though no water was left in his body, and the headache blaring in his head hurt worse than any migraine. How long had he spent inside this tiny stall? </p><p>“Please stop apologizing.” Tsukishima pleaded, his glasses foggy with tears Yamaguchi didn’t notice were there. “And please stop crying, I don’t know what to do to make them stop.” </p><p>He didn’t think the words that fell out of his friend’s mouth were real. Tsukishima wasn’t the type of person to feel this backwards sort of guilt, he wasn’t supposed to feel bad over someone else’s tears. </p><p>The hands covering his face fell completely, and the tears continued to fall, but they were gentle. Like raindrops on cars, not the pouring tropical storms. </p><p>He really was experiencing a roller coaster of rain. </p><p>“Yams, please tell me what’s wrong.” </p><p>What <em>was</em> wrong? Everything, but Yamaguchi himself was the worst of all. He could blame Tsukki all he wanted, but it change the painful and simple fact that it was all his fault. It was his fault for feeling like this. His fault for feeling this way for his closest friend. His fault for not being good enough for anyone’s standards. </p><p>Or maybe the catalyst was his jealousy, he could never be a tall, pretty girl with long flowing hair that could make Tsukishima laugh. He couldn’t stop his friend from falling in love with someone else. </p><p>Maybe the horrid realization that he wasn’t in control of anything in his life brought him to the small bathroom behind the school, far away from anyone else. </p><p>“I’m sorry...” He didn’t know what else to say. Was there anything he could even say? </p><p>Yamaguchi sat struck with complete and utter hopelessness in front of his best friend. No other words wanted to come out. “Sorry” was all he could repeat. </p><p>“For the love of-“ Tsukishima inhaled with sharp annoyance, “Stop apologizing. There’s nothing to be sorry, just tell me what’s wrong.” He took of his black-rimmed glasses, wiping the tears welled up in his eyes. </p><p>Why was he crying? Yamaguchi couldn't comprehend it. Nothing seemed to match up with his friend’s pre-set stats. He guessed it was because he was crying, but Tsukishima - he didn’t - he wasn’t like that. </p><p>“I’m hopeless.” Yamaguchi whispered quietly, “I’m horrible.” </p><p>“No you’re- at least you’re not apologizing.” His friend had half of a smile on his face - not half of a smirk - but a smile. “Please stop crying, you’re making me cry.” </p><p><em>He </em>was making Tsukishima cry.<em> <br/>
</em></p><p>Yamaguchi made the impossibly cool and stoic Tsukishima cry. Why? <em>Why? </em></p><p>He didn’t know what expression he had on at the time, probably shock, lightning strike of shock. </p><p>“I’m here, no one is going to hurt you. So please don’t cry.” Tsukishima’s pale and calloused hand wiped away the last of the tears rolling down his cheek. </p><p>For the first time in his years of friendship, Yamaguchi decided he wanted to be selfish. The guilt was going to choke him of all his air, and make his self-hatred cut deeper, but he wanted to do something that would only benefit him. </p><p>“Tsukki, can - can you please stay with me.” With a sniffle and half a tear, his selfish request was put into coherent words. </p><p>Everything he had done was for Tsukishima, to make sure he wouldn’t inconvenience anyone - especially him. Would his friend think of him as selfish? Would this be the tipping point? </p><p>A snicker drifted through the somber atmosphere, “Of course Yams. Did you think I would leave you here?” </p><p><em>Yes.</em> He wanted to say. But the only thing he had to respond with was a smile, the kind reserved for Tsukishima. “Thank you.” </p><p>It wasn’t a whisper, and it wasn’t a white lie. The “thank you” was genuine. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. [crying over instant ramen]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>haha, part two of the vent no one wanted lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tsukishima kept his promise to Yamaguchi, staying until the gasping and trembling hands were all but a distant memory. For that, he was grateful for, but as the two left the private bubble of the isolated bathroom all of Yamaguchi’s guilt came back in one final blow. </p><p>“I’m sorry Tsukki, we skipped class because of me. I’m really sorry.” He mumbled, his fingers fidgeting into a tangled mess. </p><p>His friend sighed, “Whatever, what’s done is done.” A pause, and Yamaguchi felt more anticipation than he should’ve. “I’m just - just happy that you’re okay.” A large hand ruffled the back of his hair, and hesitated to leave. </p><p>“Thank you.” He laughed, feeling a lot lighter than a mere five minutes ago. “We can ask Yachi for the work we missed.” </p><p>Tsukishima hummed in agreement. It was the final noise made between them as they walked back to their classroom on the second floor. The knots in Yamaguchi’s stomach never detangled themselves. Whatever happened in the bathroom was more intimate than anything Tsukishima had ever done in the past. </p><p>Yamaguchi felt even more guilt over the sense of accomplishment, Tsukki would skip an entire period to help him calm down. He wished there could be more times where his friend would rush to his side to help him through hard times. </p><p>But that’s all they were, far away fantasies and impossible dreams. Yamaguchi had made a secret vow to himself to never, ever, bring up the bathroom incident ever again. That meant absolutely no repeats of today. All panic attacks were to be held in the privacy of his own home. </p><p>“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima stopped a little ways outside of the classroom door. The vague chattering of their peers flittered through the otherwise silent hallway. “If you ever feel like that again, tell me. I want to help you.” </p><p>A warm, bubbling emotion filled his chest, he was truly grateful for Tsukishima’s care and consideration, but this would be the last time this happened. </p><p>“Okay,” He crafted a smile he hoped look real, “Let’s go, Yachi is probably worried.” </p><p>Tsukishima didn’t look convinced, but Yamaguchi tried to pay no mind to it. </p><hr/><p>He was right, the panic attack lay a forgotten topic. If not forgotten, then unspoken. Yamaguchi was grateful for this, he didn’t want anything to impact the friendship he treasured so dearly. </p><p>Even as they walked back, shoulder-to-shoulder, not even a sliver any indication of the incident slipped through the cracks. </p><p>“See ya, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi smiled and waved, hoping the slight rush in his step wasn’t noticeable, as he opened the gate to his house. </p><p>Tsukishima raised his arm for him to stop, but Yamaguchi pretended he never saw a thing. </p><p>The house was empty as usual, with his parents off doing their own things. He never really minded - before Tsukki he definitely did - but now, it was much needed peace and quiet. In this huge, empty house, no one would hear him cry for hours on end. Here was his only safe place - the only place away from his friends, teachers, and peers. </p><p>His stomach rumbled - well, it would be at least nice to have a parent who cooked you meals. Yamaguchi sighed, it was going to be another meal of instant noodles, the exhaustion etched into his bones didn’t allow him to make anything better. </p><p>As he boiled the water, Tsukishima’s words replayed in his head. </p><p>
  <em>“Please stop crying, you’re making me cry.”</em>
</p><p>He’s heard his friends say it in other contexts, holding a different emotional weight, or when his parents used to care a lot more. The words never felt this heavy, with this much impact. Yamaguchi wished his brain could turn off and let him eat with no unnecessary comments and concerns. </p><p>He hated that those words made the butterflies in his stomach multiply by tens fold. Honestly, he wished they’d all die already, not breed more. </p><p>Yamaguchi ripped open the pack of instant noodles, taking very little care when pouring the boiling hot water. Which lead to the inevitability of the water splashing - and by proxy - burning his skin. </p><p>It was a bad sign that the pain barely got anything more than a wince you’d give a paper cut. The stinging burn felt uncomfortable and stifling, but Yamaguchi continued with his impossibly simple task, calmly setting the timer for three minutes. </p><p>The foam cup wafted put steam in a steady dance, the grey wisps swirled and moved with mesmerizing grace. Yes - Yamaguchi was so bored and tired that steam was interesting to him. It was better than the alternative - playing the bathroom incident like a video on repeat. </p><p>
  <em>Ding! <br/></em>
</p><p>Hisphone vibrated, forgotten in his pocket. He guessed it was from Hinata trying to inquire why both he and Tsukki were missing from lunch and a good hour afterwards. During practice, Hinata had tried - and failed - to get any answers. Finally giving up when he noticed how uncomfortable Yamaguchi was, and how much harsher the annoyed stare Tsukishima was giving him. </p><p>[Hinata]: you ok? :(((</p><p>[Yamaguchi]: yea! Just had a bad stomachache lol</p><p>[Hinata]: I don’t believe you &gt;:0</p><p>[Yamaguchi]: hey!!! I’m telling the truth here!! &gt;:000</p><p>[Yamaguchi]: don’t underestimate the power of a bad stomachache!!</p><p>If faking his emotions in real life was easy, then faking it through text was something he could do in his sleep. He’d been doing both for ages, to his parents, teachers, and especially friends. He knew that after a couple more back-and-forth messages Hinata would believe him - or at least back down. </p><p>If only Tsukishima had done the same... </p><p>Yamaguchi watched as the timer ticked down to one second, turning it off immediately. He hated the noise the damn thing made, it always scared him no matter how prepared he was. </p><p>“Itadakimasu.” Floated in the empty silence of the house. </p><p>The smell of instant noodles was always a debate in his mind; he liked the way it reminded him of nights he spent alone with only the anime on TV to keep him company, but on the other hand - it served as a reminder to the biting loneliness he had lived his entire life with.</p><p>Maybe he did still care that his parents only gave scraps of affection, on good days they were dismissive of him - they loved him, but they loved their work more. And maybe Tsukki wasn’t the fix-all that ten-year-old Yamaguchi had built him up to be in his mind.</p><p>He clearly wasn’t since the razor in his bathroom still had dried blood from the last time he used it - Yamaguchi really needed to replace the blade on that thing. </p><p>Water wells up in his eyes, he can feel the pricking sting that came with almost crying. The slightly too salty broth and bland noodles combination did nothing to calm him down. Oh, how he wished feelings never existed. </p><p>He rubbed his thigh, imagining the raised scars and barely healed cuts across his skin. Yamaguchi tried to space out the days he ended up on the floor sobbing with a razor to his skin, but maybe he should make an exception for today. Just today.</p><p>The thighs were the only safe place for these types of things, everywhere else was a danger zone. He could be caught with deep cuts and no explanation, and that was more trouble than it’s worth. He had debated on using the bathroom to change, but that would raise eyebrows from the rest of his team - and especially the ones he was closer to. </p><p>Yamaguchi stared at the half empty foam cup, the artificial broth and noodles were even less appetizing than before. He sighed, pouring the soup down the sink and throwing the container away. </p><p>It wasn’t like he would finish it anyways. </p><p>The phone lay forgotten on the table, and he didn’t care enough to retrieve it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to call him anyways.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. [the tale of the forgotten phone]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yamaguchi pulled out his unfinished homework, glaring at it’s blank spaces where answers were supposed to go. They were mocking him, telling him “are you so stupid that you can’t figure us out?” </p><p>He couldn’t afford to keep his just average grade without doing his homework, but fuck - he felt horrible. He rolled his pencil between his fingers, arguing with himself over every possibility. If he does half of his homework he’d get half of the credit, if he did none of his homework he’d get no credit, and if he didn’t show up to school-</p><p>Yamaguchi decided to take a shower, and get back to his unfinished problems. It would clear his head, he argued, and relax him from a stressful day. But he knew a shower was to run away from his problems for just a little while longer. </p><p>Even the little things, like doing a page of homework made Yamaguchi want to crawl under a rock and never come out. </p><p>Volleyball became one of his biggest problems - he wasn’t good enough to become a starter even though every first-year did. No one treated him differently because of it, but he could tell their judging states were there. Their disappointed sighs when he messes up again, every time his spikes are below average, and his just decent receives. He didn’t blame them though, he’s judging himself too. </p><p>He’s probably judging himself the hardest - as the saying goes: “you are your worst critic.” </p><p>It happened again, as Yamaguchi watched his pencil twirl around, he noticed how distant it felt. It was absolutely his hand, but why didn’t it feel like it? </p><p>He sighed, it was going to be one of those nights. The nights where he could only stay up until two doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself. His depression didn’t let him do anything remotely productive, and his anxiety refused to calm down long enough so he could sleep. </p><p>One of those nights hadn’t happened in so long, Yamaguchi had naively hoped they’d never happen again. </p><p>Another sigh escaped him, he should - yeah - he really needed that shower. </p><hr/><p>Yamaguchi’s predictions were spot on, falling asleep had been a far away dream until two in the morning had decided to come. The clock read 5:00 - great. Not only could he not sleep, he also woke up stupidly early. </p><p>He flopped back onto his bed, hair falling onto his face and a sigh leaving his body. He could finish the homework he really needed to do, but he could still feel the effects of his depressive episode were still swirling around in his body. </p><p>Yamaguchi wondered if his parents were home, but knowing them, they probably went to a drinking party with colleagues and decided to stay the night at a hotel. This made him bitter - unreasonably so. Their job was important to them, but why couldn’t he take priority - even for just a day. </p><p>An old, repressed, memory resurfaced to fuel the flame inside his heart. It was his tenth birthday, and his parents had planned a big day at the amusement park. Young Yamaguchi was so excited, his eyes still bright with stars and a smile with pure and genuine warmth. It was his tenth birthday so of course it was special. He had spent the entire night before replaying every - good - possibility. He was so excited. So fucking excited. </p><p>Then, like the cruelest twist of fate, he had woken up full of happiness to an empty house and a note with ¥100,000 thrown haphazardly. </p><p>“Happy birthday, Tadashi! We’re so sorry but work came up so please go enjoy yourself, we promise we’ll do something later. :)</p><p>Love, <br/>Mom and Dad” </p><p>He cried that day like he never did before. It was all his fault, he wasn’t good enough for his parents to care. Not even for his birthday. </p><p>Yamaguchi laughed bitterly to himself, the memories brought painful tears to his eyes and he could do nothing to stop them. Even after five years. </p><p>“Whatever.” He whispered, closing his eyes tightly, as if it would make every ounce of pain leak from his body. </p><p>School was still going to happen, and his parents will continue to not care, all he could do was deal with it. Maybe if he was good enough... Just maybe. </p><p>Another deep sigh later, and he was up from his bed and making himself slightly more presentable than being in his sleep wear. The kitchen was empty as usual, no sign of life - especially not his parents. </p><p>Yamaguchi sluggishly pulled out a half-empty carton of milk and a white bowl, preparing himself for another meal of sugary cereal. At least his parents bought him food that he liked. </p><p>Even though the food was frequently bought by him- </p><p>Yamaguchi spotted his phone on the countertops, it’s sleek black color contrasted sharply against the stark white. </p><p>
  <em>Ding! <br/></em>
</p><p>A message? Was it a message? Could it be his parents? No, his parents communicate exclusively with yellow sticky notes and money. If he was lucky, maybe a quick, one minute phone call. </p><p>Tentatively setting his goods on the cool surface, he reached for his phone. As he flipped it on, Yamaguchi was bombarded with messages and missed phone calls all by the same person - Tsukki★彡. </p><p>Each message became more frantic than the last, and the most recent, the one which made him stop his cereal mission, read as follows: <em>Yamaguchi, is everything ok?? Just a yes or no suffices. Please respond, you’re worrying me. </em></p><p>What had happened last night? The worst of every possibility raced in his head, knocking everything over in the process. </p><p>His hands fumbled to look through all the <em>56</em> messages, and listen to the <em>17 </em>voice memos. </p><p>Yamaguchi was beyond worried, Tsukki didn’t go crazy like this, he stayed calm and collected. If you didn’t respond to him, then he’d leave you be - unlike the Dynamic Duo - who’s break your phone with a constant waterfall of pings and texts. </p><p>“Yamaguchi, please, let me know if you’re okay. You aren’t responding to anything, and - and, you didn’t seem like yourself today. Please - please let me know if you’re okay.” </p><p>He knew this voice - he met them during the bathroom incident - the voice his best friend used while crying as he kneeled on the bathroom floor. </p><p>For a quick, split second, Yamaguchi stood in the middle of the cold and empty kitchen - baffled. However, logically speaking, anyone would be worried. Maybe not as worried as Tsukishima - but definitely worried. </p><p>He pressed the call button, anxiety swimming in his stomach as the ring floated through the air like an alarm. </p><p>After a few agonizing seconds, Tsukishima picked up, “Yamaguchi, are you okay?” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine Tsukki, no need to worry.” He chuckled, hoping it sounded the way it usually did, because apparently he could tell the difference. “I just left my phone in the kitchen.” </p><p>“Oh.” Yamaguchi wondered if he made his friend mad, he seemed so worried for it to have all been a simple ‘I left my phone in the kitchen.’ </p><p>“I’m sorry-“ </p><p>“Thank god you’re okay.” Tsukishima let out, the relief flooding from every syllable. “I’ll see you later then. Sorry I spammed your phone.”</p><p>The call ended as quickly as it started, barely leaving Yamaguchi any time to say anything at all. Either way though, he felt warm all over, Tsukishima cared about him. He felt so happy. </p><p>He was used to being in the background, always being the second option - a second thought. This time though, someone really cared - and it was the person he loved the most. </p><p>Yamaguchi smiled, and suddenly, the reluctance to go back to school all but disappeared. </p><p>He decided not to think too hard on why Tsukishima went berserk with messages and missed calls - he also decided to push all of this into the deepest and darkest crevices of his mind. He shouldn’t be happy that he made his friend worry so much, and it certainly shouldn’t make him erupt with butterflies. </p><p>When he saw Tsukki again, he would pretend like nothing ever happened, and Yamaguchi hoped his friend would do the same.</p><p>His hopes were heard - the bathroom incident was never spoken of again. At least, not for two weeks. </p>
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